Last Flowers
by xXxQuam ut evanui plenexXx
Summary: Chapter one of a Snarry songfic. 12 Grimmauld Place is awakened and so is it's tired occupant Severus Snape. Unable to get to sleep Snape finally accepts who his feelings are for. Rated M because of mature content and future chapters will be M.


Disclaimer : This is a Snarry songfic. If you are offended by Slash or sexual content or are under 18 please stop reading this fanfiction now. I do not own Harry Potter or it's characters. I don't own any of the lyrics used in this songfic.

Chapter 1 : Last Flowers - Radiohead

-Appliances have gone berserk-

On a gloomy Tuesday night noises and flashes lit up 12 Grimmauld Place. Groaning, Snape fumbled for his wand as he tried to quiet the drone made lamps which had started to converse, tables clambering to reach the door and a sarcastic lamp stick commenting on his poor choice of curtains. Snape silenced the chaos with a few flicks of his wand but not before the lamp stick could comment, "You've always been a boring git.." His sentence was ended before he could do any more damage. Snape curled up on his bed, he couldn't sleep. He could never sleep, with these thoughts cascading through his mind.

-I cannot keep up-

I could never keep up. Their robes cascading in front of me. Satin and silk dashing my hopes. Spilling onto the floor, my tears fell. My robes to short, worn and old but always immaculately clean. Hair covering my face, hovering around my head like it wasn't meant to be there. The truth was i wasn't meant to be there. A small boy emerging from the chaotic household. It went from moments of madness, nothing by screaming and then long periods of quiet. Except from my mothers sobs which echoed the living room walls. I closed the door and went to my room. I couldn't console my mother, i was the reason why he got so mad. My crime? I was born. My mother was a witch and he was a muggle, my father never knew she was a witch. He found out when the toys in my crib flew around the room, a baby boy cloaked in black curls clapping my hands together with delight. After then there were no more toys, a small cold room, a trunk full of clothes and books, a small toy cauldron my mother snuck in for me one Christmas. Muggle school was a similar story, top marks weren't enough for my father. Grabbing my clothes he flung me against the wall, 'Stop being such a girl! my boy skipping his P.E? Fucking right" he shouted in a rough accent. The beatings left bruises but the lessons were learned. Lesson number one : Severus Snape cannot keep up.

-Treading on people's toes-

Snape had many masters. He has a calculated, demented master who floated through his view, tore shreds from his body. He has a manipulating master who demands his skills, loyalty and life. He has his demons which follow him through rooms and kill him when he sleeps. He has always been standing on the shoulders of giants, standing at the wall, hiding in the shadows. Never demanding, only giving to whichever master took. Treading on the toes of the moral, kind and true people. He was a waste, even his masters looked at him like he was a bit of gum on their shoe. He sometimes wondered what they would do when they got sick of him. He was a parasite waiting to be killed. Then there was the small bespectacled boy, with an innocent enquiring look on his face. He was his soul, his savior, and he destroyed him. The little boy with such love in lily's eyes, HIS eyes. He destroyed his being everyday, and it killed him inside.

-Snot-nosed little punk-

'Oh why should i bloody care about some snot-nosed little punk!' Smashing his hand on the bedside table he pulled himself up and pulled on his housecoat. Walking through to the study he looked at the sleeping portrait, it's ugly wrinkled face and mask covering it's aged porcelain eyes. Falling on the sofa he poured himself a large drink. Snot-nosed, no never snot nosed. Messy hair which framed his face. Little punk, not really. Defiant, self assured and impulsive.

-And I can't face the evening straight

You can offer me escape-

Pulling himself through to the potions cabinet, he staggered and searched for the potion he needed. He needed several. Oddly shaped bottles of different colors stacked the shelves of the cabinet. Downing three, even though he only required one he fell onto the sofa.

-Houses move and houses speak

If you take me there you'll get relief

relief, relief, relief, relief, relief...-

Eyes heavy, he was to sad to cry. Lips still quivered by refused to shake. Hugging his skeletal body he refused to pray. No one was there. He wished for sleep, more so if not sleep then death, or something else where he wouldn't be troubled by his masters or demons anymore.

It's too much

Too bright

Too powerful

Too much

Too bright

Too powerful

He sought comfort in someones arms, images flashed through his head. He couldn't lie to himself any longer. He gave into slumber, dreaming of the boy with emerald eyes and amber hair.

Hope you enjoyed! Comment if you want some more chapters or if you could suggest any improvements or why you didn't enjoy it. Please don't be too harsh. It's only my first fanfic 3


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